


Seducing Caduceus: “Mushrooms, Flowers, and Other Various Dead Things”

by whillice



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caduceus Clay Deserves Nice Things, Caduceus Clay Has a Crush, F/M, Tropes, Virgin Caduceus Clay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26845219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whillice/pseuds/whillice
Summary: Caduceus Clay meets Maudri Aspenreeve, an ancient druid who shares his love of brewing teas and collecting mushrooms and flowers collected from across the world, especially those nourished by those she has loved. She and her goddess have a very specific take on the interrelation of life, death, sex, fertility. She also has the hots for firbolgs. All of these intrigue Caduceus, and we get everything in this first chapter up through anything actually physical. Can write more if people like it.
Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 3





	Seducing Caduceus: “Mushrooms, Flowers, and Other Various Dead Things”

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: (because I know this is in question) This fanfic specifically addresses and names that Caduceus is not asexual, but also attempts to honor that Ace relationships are rad and normal. Apologies if anything comes off not reflecting that.
> 
> Also, I know this is sort of cringey daytime soap opera type stuff. It's a little bit tropey and I recognize Maudri is very much in a manic pixie dreamgirl vein and some other problematic elements. But it's what my patrons asked me to write, so there it is?

Caduceus Clay was not one to ever be completely comfortable in the refined furnishings of the Lavish Chateau, but he found himself once again here with his adventuring companions. While he appreciated that others enjoyed the creature comforts, the music, the food, the pleasures of the flesh that such a place offered-- all for a price, of course -- he wondered about the true value of things and especially of those that cannot be purchased.

All of these things-- fine pillows, meats, even the dancers and courtesans who entertained wealthy gentlemen with more gold than sense-- they would all return to the earth. His companions had all enjoyed themselves and had retired for the evening, many in various romantic couplings which Caduceus chuckled at. He was happy that his friends were happy, and that they could find some fleeting pleasure before death came to take them all, as  
He does with everyone, eventually. Such was the way of things. It was important not to get caught up too much in the moment. 

The tall, lithe firbolg sipped his tea and remarked on what an excellent vintage it was. He spilled a tiny bit on the shock of pink beard as a figure entered the room with such energy and purpose as he had not seen in ages. A cloaked figure strode to the main bar, clothes all dark as midnight with a fringe of a green so dark it was nearly imperceptible to most. But Caduceus noticed. The figure pulled down the hood to reveal an alabaster face, ruddy copper colored hair tied back in a long braid which nestled around the most delicate of pointed ears. Green almond-shaped eyes shot across the room and briefly locked on Caduceus. Well, he did stick out, and the late night crowd had dwindled to all but a few people drinking what was likely their last of the night.

“Barkeep!” he heard her yell. Her voice had an odd, unfamiliar accent. It wasn’t the typical speech of the Common tongue nor the refined speech of nobility or even of the Elves themselves, but somehow in between them all. “Is my usual room ready?” He seemed to nod, they exchanged some coins, keys, and he passed her a rather large glass of a rose-colored wine. Various servants appeared and took her various bags and possessions, apparently up to said room.

She strode like a large cat would prepare itself to pounce on unsuspecting prey. “And who might you be? I must say in all my years coming here I most certainly have never met you,” her quick crisp delivery put Caduceus slightly on edge. 

He replied, perceptibly slower, “No, ma’am. My name is Clay, Caduceus Clay if you must. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

“Charmed. I am Maudri, of the Elven house Aspenreeve, though I haven’t been back there in ages. Have you heard of Aspenreeve?”

Caduceus had not but had barely had time to shrug as she went on, “Dreadful place, darling. Don’t ever go. So very uptight about everything. I live deep in the forest instead, away from the cares and concerns of men and elves. But we do have to come into Nicodranas every few months to trade goods for things the forest can’t provide. And some of that includes,” she lightly touched the fur on Caduceus’s forearm, “meeting new people.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Caduceus raised his tea to toast the meeting.

“And what exactly are you drinking, darling? I’m sitting down next to you,” she announced as she did.

“Tea,” he replied and sipped. “My own personal blend. I collect various leaves, mushrooms and fungi and make this myself.”

“A forager? A man after my own heart. I also love mushrooms, but I prefer growing them in beds of expended coffee grounds. Have you ever had those? Positively amazing.”

“No, I mostly collect mine from dead people,” the firbolg stated as though it was the most mundane of facts.

Maudri’s almond eyes narrowed, the light intensified like tiny emerald colored beams of energy would shoot out if she concentrated any more, “Now that is interesting. I haven’t met anyone outside my order who does that. Do you. . .” she moved in closer to whisper directly in his ear, pulling back a few choice pink locks, “Do you serve a forbidden god, too?”

“Forbidden, no,” Caduceus replied in a low tone, keeping the conversation as private as possible. “And serve isn’t really how I describe my relationship with The Wildmother. Let’s just say we have the same purpose.”

“I know this Wildmother and love and respect her. But we cannot speak of such things here. Will you retire with me to my room where we can speak in private?” Maudri arose and proffered a hand. Caduceus grabbed it and was surprised as how soft her fingers were, and yet some dirt still remained under her fingernails. These were hands who had tilled soft garden soils. She was tall, even for an elf, and not much more than six or seven inches shorter than he was, which was surprising for most people Caduceus met. Her amber hair and his pink beard were at approximately the same level.

Maudri led Caduceus up a flight of stairs to a private suite which he recognized as much larger and luxurious than the normal accommodations, which included a tiny kitchenette attached. “Do make yourself comfortable. I certainly am.” She removed her cloak revealing a tightly bound black leather corset atop a black frilly shirt which poofed around her upper arms but left her shoulders and upper chest completely bare.

Caduceus sat in a chair in the corner of the room a few feet away from and facing both bed and kitchenette, as Maudri plopped on the bed and unceremoniously began prying a pair of utilitarian riding boots, speckled with mud from her travels, from her feet. Her toes, unbound from their prison, seemed to revel in feeling the soft warmth of the large plush rug in the center of the room. “Ever so much better. And won’t you remove your footwear, Mr. Clay?”

“I. . . suppose,” he replied, not having thought much of it. Maudri strode across the room, again like a jungle cat, and just as gracefully knelt at his feet and started untying his laces. 

“I must admit, I’ve always wanted to know what furbolg feet looked like. I haven’t seen many, even in my long life, and I’ve certainly never been with one before.” She placed an emphasis on that fourth to last word that Caduceus did not at all understand. “Ever so much better,” she repeated, his furry toes now bare against the smooth wooden floor. “And where were we? Right. The goddess.”

Caduceus relaxed and sipped his tea. This was rather enjoyable. He had never met someone with both quite so old a soul and yet the grace and energy of a woman in her prime.

“Do you know the goddess Ishtar?” Caduceus shook his head no. “She goes by many other names: Ashtoreth, Astarte, and some worship her only as a goddess of love, Aphrodite, but she is so much more than that. She is life. She is death. She is a goddess of war. She is both the spring renewal and the harvest. She is balance.”

“That sounds complicated,” Caduceus responded. Religion wasn’t really something that interested him. “But you said something about tea.” 

“Yes, of course,” Maudri flicked her wrist and a tight flame began lapping at the stove. She pulled a medium steam trunk from under her bed and unlatched it. As she did, from halfway across the room Caduceus could smell a dozen different aromas: flowers, oils, sandalwood, but also loam, moss and decomposition... and fungus. She pulled out a large brass tea kettle, some paints and brushes.

“I have served the Goddess Ishtar for four centuries. And during this time I have fought in wars and killed, but I have also restored and replenished. A forest fire is a destructive thing, but even its destruction brings way to new life.” Maudri filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove to boil.

“I suppose.”

“So how do you collect your teas, Mr. Clay?” Maudri lay herself partway prone on one arm on the bed and began picking through the various boxes, removing flowers, leaves, mushrooms, dried berries, and various other ingredients.

“Well, when things die, I sort of seed them, then collect what grows.”

“I do the same. We are the same...” She spoke definitively “and yet different” as she pulled a medium, fragrant box from the chest. “Coffee beans, which I grind, brew and drink, but then place the expended grounds here, and. . .” she waved her hand again and a prodigious crop of oyster mushrooms burst forth. “Now these are good, but they’re only the beginning. From death comes life, but from death can also come beauty.” 

“Well, those do look quite beautiful, ma’am. . .” Caduceus began, but Maudri cut him off, pulling another box from the trunk, this one much darker and danker.

“These are the remains of my sister in the Order. She trained me. She mentored me. We fought together and she fell in battle. It was her time. All things die. I wept for her loss, but now, every week she springs forth one purple rose, one whose stamens produce the most fragrant and pleasing smell and taste of complex saffron and almonds and cardamom and white wine. Whenever I miss her, I can drink of some of her essence, and it reminds me of her and the things she taught me. So she’s never really gone.”

“That’s a comforting thought,” Caduceus replied.

“Will you join me? Her weekly time is nigh, and while I’d normally simply collect and dry the samples for later, if you’ll join me in a fresh cup of this, and other things I’ve collected, I would be most honored.” As if on cue, a green stem burst forth from the dirt, seconds later blooming into a perfect purple rosebud. “And so this is what I do, Mr. Caduceus Clay, I collect the dead things of the world, and turn them into something beautiful. Because death is beautiful, but new life and fertility is even more beautiful.”

“Yes, I do believe I’ll join you.” Caduceus had finished his tea already and was not going to say no to this.

“New life, which must eventually die. But we may harvest what is good from it. And in death, create new life. I also believe in preserving life. Do you, Mr. Clay?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Caduceus wasn’t sure where this was going.

Maudri pulled a large sketchbook from the trunk, bringing it, along with the paints, over to Caduceus’s side. “And these paints I’ve also collected from the various dead things and new life that death creates. This crimson” she held up several small vials of paints and dyes “is the color of flowers on a battlefield weeks after it has been fertilized with blood. This white is from an orchid that only grows on the trunks of dead trees in the deepest swamps. Its stamens also taste like the most fragrant vanilla you have ever tasted. This black is from a tree so deep in the forest that natural unfiltered light has not hit its trunk in centuries. But it is older than I, and when its sap runs in the dead of winter, I draw it out, the mix with an oily tar from an ancient bog holding the remains of a thousand generations of plants and animals. And then I use it to capture life.” She began thumbing through her book. Almost all of the paintings were of various flowers, especially orchids. Some were people, some were animals. “Some of these are decades old. I capture their lives in paint, on paper, where they can live forever free from age, death and corruption, forever beautiful. But that’s not the way of life, is it, Mr. Clay?”

She pushed a lock of his pink bangs out of his eyes and looked into them deeply, “No, I guess it is not.”

“Your fir, your skin, your hair, is so soft,” she put a hand on his cheek. “I must have you. I must paint you. I must keep you forever.” The kettle began to whistle, and without looking away, Maudri extended her hand and unsummoned the flame back from wherever it came, as she got up to collect the ingredients for the tea, her amber braid brushing the side of his face. .

Saved by the kettle whistle, Caduceus thought to himself, as this physical contact made him a little unnerved. In this moment he cast Divination and asked the Wildmother silently if he could trust Ishtar and her servant Maudri, or if they were allied with the other Betrayer Gods. 

Caduceus felt a warm breeze blow through his bosom, speaking in warm tones directly into his heart. “She is. . . a sister. A wayward, more brutal sister sometimes, but. . . nature sometimes conflicts with other nature. Be with her. Learn from her.” 

“Does my art bother you, Mr. Clay?” Maudri had apparently noticed the discomfort in his countenance. “Some have told me they find it to be too feminine, too gynecological. Yes, the flowers may unnerve some because of their resemblance to genitalia, but what are flowers but plant vaginas and penises?”

“Excuse me?” Caduceus was really not following.

“You know the parlance of the birds and the bees, a euphemism to avoid speaking to children about sex?” Maudri had begun steeping a blend of her collected flowers, herbs and berries and it was fragrant from across the room in all the right ways. “Are you hungry, Mr. Clay?”

“What?” Now he was really lost.

“Dinner. I’m still famished from the road and we can’t possibly drink tea without something to eat. I have just the thing. . .” Maudri pulled out a small sack of flour, a few eggs, some powders, and various other vegetables and cheeses, including deftly harvesting the mushrooms she had just grown. “Now where was I?”

“Sex?”

“Yes, sex. Now, as a devotee of the Wildmother, you know that why the birds and bees are important is they pollinate the flowers and plants and help them grow. Plants can’t have sex, but birds and bees do. And from there comes all life. And this. .. “ She pulled a brownish gray powder from a bag and added it to some of the warm water “this yeast is itself living. It slumbers now, but awakened in the water, we will feed it with sugar and flour and salt” she narrated as she mixed ingredients “until we have the dough, from which we can make any old thing. But we are not going to make any old thing, we are making pizza.”

“I am not aware of pizza. Is it Elvish?”

“Not exactly.” She continued to narrate and she, in less than five minutes, assembled a round disc. “Pull the dough, make the proteins connect. Normally we’d wait to let this dough rise, but we have tea to drink so a little magic can’t hurt to speed it all up. Place this paste of tomatoes, onions, garlic, red pepper, oregano, and basil around the center, then cover it in cheese, and, of course, our mushrooms. There.” She had created a perfect disc with a bounty of cheese and vegetal warmth covering it. She placed it on a cooking stone and placed it in her oven, again conjuring flame from nowhere. This time, the fire was much stronger and Caduceus could almost feel its heat from where he was sitting. Prestidigitating the stone to rotate it in the oven, Caduceus could see the dough rise and brown as the cheese melted and bubbled, the mushrooms giving up their excess moisture and cooking just perfectly. Obviously a master at this, Maudri then pulled the stone from the oven and let it rest while she poured the tea.

“So, sex. This pizza is sex. This pizza is death. Yeast creates life, creates air which leavens the dough, then dies. The dough comes from wheat flour-- the harvest-- and eggs-- fertility.. Cheese comes from milk, and milk is taken from the goats and cows and sheep which have recently given birth, then refined and preserved so it doesn’t spoil, doesn’t die. Mushrooms. . . they are mushrooms and you know this part. Herbs, tomatoes stored and preserved so they don’t spoil. And all of them, married here, in this perfect, unending circle. Life. Death.” 

Maudri pulled a long blade and sliced the disc in several triangular pieces, then pulled one of the slices and the gooey melted cheese stretched for many inches. She put two slices on a plate and delivered them to Caduceus, as well as proffering her tea kettle to fill his cup. 

Caduceus sipped the piping hot tea and was overwhelmed with the complexity and brightness of flavors. In his minds’ eye, he indeed saw an Elf warrior, sitting in a circle of other Elves, all female, in a grove of shady trees. Maudri, but a younger version, appearing closer in age to a human in the mid-20s, laid her head in the leader’s lap and she spoke of the forest and balance and druidcraft. 

Then, a pitched battle. Caduceus recognized this place-- the Barbed Fields of Xorhas. The Elf maidens he had seen before were in pitched battle against forces attempting a direct assault on the Arbor Exemplar. Maudri’s mentor had fallen, and Maudri sat weeping over her newly dead corpse, attempting in vain to restore her. 

And then, a beautiful valley, full of life, teeming with plants and animals, as he focused on two magnificent elk, a male and a female, running through the grass. Caduceus innately recognized the bull elk as Maudri and the cow as her mentor, as strange as that was, and trailing after them came a small fawn.

Life. Death. Life.

It was not psychedelic-- Caduceus had tried plenty of those types of mushrooms in his tea before-- this was mystical. It was holy.

“You. . . saw her, didn’t you? You saw my Zhana. Most people don’t. I should’ve warned you. The first sip always gets me, too.” Back completely in reality with Maudri’s smiling face inches from his, Caduceus attempted to straighten and sit up, but he was too blissful and content, overwhelmed by the implications of what he’d just seen, and so sunk further in his chair. “Try the pizza. It’s not magical like the tea, but it’s still excellent.”

Caduceus picked up the slice and considered the best way to approach it. Was this like a pie where it was acceptable to eat a slice from the center, or should you begin with the crust? And with no silverware, it was unclear how to begin. Maudri, sensing his confusion, served herself the remaining slices and gently folded it in her hands, bringing it up to her soft lips, and bit into a slice, gooey center first. Caduceus followed her lead. Indeed these mushrooms were some of the best he had tasted in a long time. 

She spoke between bites, “All things in balance. Sweet and savory. Milk and egg of life and mushroom of death. Herbs, spices, salt, heat, all balanced. This is what I do. This is how I serve the Goddess Ishtar.”

“You make pizzas?”

She laughed in genuine surprise and it was one of the most pleasant sounds Caduceus had heard in a fortnight. He wasn’t even trying to be funny. Maudri took her first sip of tea, and closed her eyes as if in a transcendent state. Caduceus bowed his head in reverence for the moment. Life, death. 

“Thank you for that,” Maudri wiped a single tear from the corner of her eye, then took another sip. “You must have questions. And I’ve been prattling on this whole time.”

“So, you become other creatures?” Caduceus asked.

“Yes. You saw that too? How marvelous!”

“And did you. . . and Zhana. . . have a child?”

“Yes. And no. Not a child exactly. Definitely not an elf child. And also many children. Elk children and trout children and bluebird children. This is how we tend the forest for Ishtar.” Maudri stated this as though it was the most mundane fact possible.

“And you were both women?”

“Don’t be so prosaic, Mr. Caduceus Clay. As druids of our level, gender is very little more than a societal construct. And love is love is love is love.”

“So you were. . . is there a term. . . lifemates?”

“Oh heavens no!” Maudri seemed aghast at this idea. “Even if you have a bond and love someone, sometime you just want to turn into a stallion and go run through the fields and pluck the most worthy female from the herd. And sometimes you want to be the she-fruit bat and just. . . do you know what female fruit bats do to the males they mate with?”

“I can’t say I do.”

“It’s complicated and maybe I’ll show you sometime. But we make babies, we raise babies, we help balance the forest. Too many deer? Make some wolves. Bears are hungry? Make more berries, fish. Life, death. Flowers, mushrooms. Balance.”

“And how many animals would you say you’ve been? How many of the various species have you, er. . . copulated with?”

“Most of them,” Maudri sort of winked at him and started to blush a little. “But not all of them. There’s still a rare few I haven’t yet. . . tried.”

“And sometimes you fight.” Caduceus sipped another, longer pull of the tea. It was very good and it made him relax and tingle down to his toes.

“Yes. Because Ishtar is also a goddess of war. And when others from the world of men threaten nature, the only language they understand is war. We can’t just make more bears or wolves to solve that problem. But death comes for us all. And all we can hope for is that the people we leave behind will remember us well.”

“And so you paint?”

“Yes, I paint. I paint those who I want to remember, who have meant something. I have dozens of these books at home, cataloguing everyone. And many of them I have teas to remember them by, or a blend, or an aroma that reminds me of them. And I’ll sit and drink my tea and remember them all as I sit looking at their pictures.”

“That is beautiful. And a little depressing.” Caduceus sipped further, almost draining the cup.

“I suppose it is. But it is my life and it is in service to nature’s balance.” 

“To nature’s balance!” Caduceus raised his cup, then drained what was remaining. Damn, that was good tea. His entire form felt innervated and full of light. And just then something snapped into place. “You mean to paint me. To capture me.”

“Yes.” She had finished eating, moved to the foot of the bed, less than a foot from where Caduceus sat. She continued as she began putting away all the various ingredients she had taken out to make their meal.

“But you also just said you paint the people you, er. . . ehm. . .”

“Sex, Mr. Clay. Yes. Coitus. Copulation. The birds and the bees. Fuck, to be coarse.”

Caduceus almost fell out of his chair. “Well, ahhem. . . see, the thing is. . . and you would turn into a firbolg?”

“Oh, Caduceus. So naive. Firbolgs are not animals, any moreso than Gnomes, Trolls, or Orcs, No, I’m me. I’m not going to change into anything or anyone. Right now I’m just a girl asking a guy to let me share something beautiful with him. Life and death. Pizza, tea, sex.” She had finished packing everything into the steamer trunk and placed it on the floor under the bed, clearing a space next to her, putting one of her legs up on the bed seductively “Do you know what the Druidic word for an orgasm is?”

“I don’t even think I know what that is.”

“We call it ‘the little death.’ After the height of pleasure and connection, you just sit there with your partner and feel a sort of beautiful emptiness and peace. I think that’s what death is like. You expend your life energy, it’s over, and then a sort of peaceful nothing.”

“So, you have sex for life, then death.” Caduceus maybe started to understand this.

“And then I bottle that memory, those feelings, put paint and brush to paper and capture it forever. And so, Caduceus, I ask you: can I paint you? Can I capture you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never really done this before or know how it works.” Caduceus didn’t really feel ashamed of this, it was just a fact. “I’d always sort of thought of myself as. . . I don’t know. . . asexual?”

“Well, are you?” Maudri asked, suddenly getting serious. It was as if a record had suddenly scratched and the music dramatically changed. “I know and respect and love too many people who are asexual and they are wonderful and beautiful and if you are then I am sorry to have put any pressure on you.” Maudri spoke quickly and nervously, worried she had hurt her new friend. “Regardless, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed your company, this chat, and we don’t have to do anything you’re not 100% comfortable with. We can just sit and sip tea and talk. I really am very happy to do that and I’m sorry. . .”

“No,” said Caduceus. “I don’t believe I am asexual... exactly. I’m sorry to have ruined this moment with insecurity, but,” he paused, “I just don’t exactly know how everything works.” It was at this moment he regretted not taking The Ruby of the Sea up on her offer of some training from some of the other ladies of the Lavish Chateau, or least had asked Nott or Jester as they seemed to know something at least.

“My dear Mr. Clay,” the soundtrack had restarted and Maudri was coiled, the jungle cat ready to finally pounce. “Why it’s as easy as falling off a log. All of the creatures of nature do it. It is purely instinctual, and I promise with my guidance you will be in good hands.

Maudri grabbed the kettle of now lukewarm tea and poured both of them a fresh cup. She garnished Caduceus’s cup with a tiny bluebell flower, floating playfully in the amber liquid. 

“Let’s die together a little bit tonight.” They both raised their cups and clinked them in a toast, and drank deeply, the warmth and energy and life essence of dozens of previously living things now coursing through them. Maudri’s lip quivered in excitement and anticipation, knowing what was coming next, knowing Caduceus did not, and savoring the last moment before they leapt into this together, the last moment they would be two separate beings, about to be joined together, even if just momentarily, in the balance of life and death.

“And so,” Maudri whispered in Caduceus’s ear, nibbling it a little, then straddled his lap, kissing his nose then his mouth, and feeling the growing hardness in his loins. “How do you want to do this?”

###

Elsewhere on the Primordial plane, two sister goddesses, Ishtar and Melora, sat playing a game of cards, laughing at how hard their mortal servants sometimes had to be pushed to just connect with each other, turning their gaze away to respect their privacy.

“Well, there now. She finally got to fuck a firbolg. Was that the last one on her list? Are you happy, Ishy?”

“Quite. Your turn. Draw three. . . And given what Caduceus is going to have to face? What he’s up against? Aren’t you glad you gave him this moment?”

“Really, I thought it would be the new guy, Fjord, who I’d be helping. Caduceus will be fine either way, and he’ll probably never even mention this or act any differently ever. But yes, I’m glad for him. Draw two more. . .”

“Gin!”

“What??! Betrayer god!”

“Am not! UGH! This is why we can’t do anything together.”

“Fine. You stay on your side of the continent, I’ll stay in mine.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!!”

###

**Author's Note:**

> Maudri Aspenreeve is an OC of the author. Feel free to use with attribution and after letting the author know. DnD character sheet available at: https://www.dndbeyond.com/profile/Whillice/characters/30669553 
> 
> Any interest in adapting or distributing please contact the author. A license in perpetuity has been granted to the Critical Thinkers Podcast for distribution on their website and podcast platform. You can listen to the audiobook version of this on their podcast at: https://anchor.fm/criticalthinkers
> 
> Original story idea and “Seducing Caduceus” original concept by the ladies at Critical Thinkers Podcast: the Doctor of Peace, the Ultimate Survivor, and a strange nebula that doesn't understand how this corporeal form functions. Thanks for the challenge, ladies. -- Your obedient servant, A. Wil.


End file.
